The Race
by KnightMara
Summary: On Tattooine, several young boys test their skills and their friendships. Another young Luke fic.


The Race

By KnightMara

A/N: This is another one of my young Luke stories, though it's not actually told from his perspective. I, of course, do not own any of these characters, as they all belong to George Lucas, TMRFE (A/N: The Man Responsible For Everything, as said by Anthony Daniels). (Hmm, how many authors write author's notes in their author's notes?) Oh well, on with the story!

Twelve year-old Biggs Darklighter stared out at the rocky cliffs that marked the entrance to Beggar's Canyon and nervously fought back the urge to chew on his lip. He knew the dangers that the canyon presented, but he had agreed to race through the narrow passageways of the landmark on his swoop, and he could neither back down nor reveal his inner fears to the group of boys standing anxiously behind him. He was, after all, racing to prove a point--that he was the best swoop rider in all of Anchorhead. It wouldn't do for the best rider to tremble with nervousness before the big event. So instead, he took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and placed his goggles over his eyes.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"You sure you want to do this, Biggs?" a nervous voice asked from behind.

Biggs grimaced. Of course, it would be Windy. Windy could always be counted on to voice his anxiety, and often he'd end up voicing the anxieties of others in the process. Such was probably the case now. Biggs knew the others were probably thinking the same thing. At this point, he could probably decide to call it all off without repercussions, except maybe from Fixer, who never missed an opportunity to knock a person down a peg if he could help it.

Instead of replying to Windy's question, Biggs glanced back at the figure standing behind him to his left. Luke returned the gaze with so much eager anticipation in those blue eyes of his that Biggs knew there would be no backing out of this now. Although younger by almost two years, Luke was one of his best friends. There's was a relationship formed on mutual admiration, although they hardly knew to call it that. Luke idolized Biggs' daredevil antics and expert driving skills, while Biggs was constantly amazed at Luke's often-contradictory personality, displaying both laughable naivete and ageless wisdom. Biggs knew he couldn't let Luke down, not this time. Curving his lips into a smile, he turned back toward the canyon.

Without a word he hopped on the swoop and started her up. She hovered for a few seconds while Deak started the countdown. Biggs knew Luke was standing there with the chrono, ready to time the run on Deak's mark.

"Five, four, three, two, one, GO!"

And he was off.

He launched into the canyon at breakneck speed, taking the first turns with unbelievable precision. The swoop handled beautifully. As the walls sped by on either side, Biggs was barely aware of his heart racing, and his pulse pounding as the wind screamed by his ears and the sand stung his face. Grateful for the goggles, he whipped the swoop into several more turns and pushed the swoop even faster. The surge of adrenaline was unreal as he continued to speed through the canyon. He was approaching the fork and had to prepare for the quick turns he'd have to make. Although the path he would take was dangerous with it's hairpin turns, it was a far cry better than the other path, which led straight for the stone needle, a rock formation through which one had to carefully thread his craft to successfully pass. No one ever went in that direction. And as crazy as he was, Biggs wasn't about to attempt that on his first canyon run.

He reached the fork in the canyon and quickly made the adjustments to maneuver through its tricky course. With each turn, his excitement mounted. He was piloting his swoop almost as fast through the canyon as he did out in the open desert. This was going to be a record, he knew it. Reaching the final turn, he leaned into it and then accelerated. He saw the canyon opening and pushed the swoop to its limit. His triumphant whoop was lost in the scream of air and engine as the vehicle burst out of the canyon opening. Slowing her down, he could hear the cheers of his waiting friends as they rushed to meet him. The crescent shaped canyon had dumped him out several hundred meters from the starting point, and he could see the crowd of boys running across the sand in his direction.

Piloting the swoop back toward the running group, he could not hide the proud smile on his face. Luke was the first to reach him as he slowed.

"Biggs!" the breathless youth cried. "That was great! I can't believe it!"

"How'd I do?" the older boy asked smugly, pulling off his goggles.

Deak replied with an excited squeak. "That was the fastest piloting I've ever seen. Just wait 'till you get a skyhopper! Then you'll show all of 'em!"

Luke was quick to retort, "He's already shown all of them. No one's made the run in a swoop that fast!"

"Yeah, but a swoop ain't a skyhopper, Wormie."

The group turned quickly to the source of the voice. Fixer stood at the rear of the group trying his best to look thoroughly unimpressed.

"Oh, what do you know, Fixer?" Luke shot back.

"Plenty," was Fixer's reply. He turned to Biggs. "Besides, you weren't racing anyone but yourself."

Biggs flinched, his initial feelings of elation deflating as quickly as a punctured balloon. Fixer was right. He hadn't actually raced against anyone. But then again, no one had offered. "Why? Are you challenging me, Fix?" he bitingly inquired.

Surprise flickered briefly across Fixer's face before he coolly replied, "Maybe. I might know someone with a swoop I can borrow. I'll let you know tomorrow. If so, we race the day after."

"You're on," agreed Biggs. "After school."

Fixer nodded and climbed into his landspeeder with Deak and Windy. Even though he was too young to be driving it, his brother had lent it to him on several occasions, and no one had bothered to stop him. As the group sped away, Luke climbed onto the back of the swoop.

Biggs started her up, and they headed back toward what could only be called civilization on Tatooine. During the trip, Luke wisely said nothing, but Biggs could tell he was concerned even through his silence. He decided to shift the kid's attention.

"What do you say we swing over to Tank's and pay him a visit?" he called over the roar of the swoop. Tank had been laid up with a broken leg for the past two weeks, though he was too embarrassed to explain how he'd come to break his leg to begin with. Biggs kept trying to get it out of him, to no avail. But Tank always seemed to enjoy the company anyway.

Luke's hollered reply was barely audible. "Can't. My uncle expects me home."

Biggs merely nodded. He'd known what the response would be, but he had asked the kid anyway just in case. The kid's aunt and uncle seemed to be pretty protective of Luke, though Biggs couldn't really blame them. He was only ten years old after all, and Tatooine was not exactly the safest place in the galaxy, even without tagging along after the craziest boy on the planet. If Luke's uncle ever found out about the crazy stunts the two of them did on afternoons like this one, he'd never let the kid out. But Luke had the sense enough to keep quiet about the races and expeditions into the Dune Sea, and so far his uncle was none the wiser. As for Biggs' own family, Huff didn't seem too concerned about his son's escapades unless his grades started to slip. After all, boys will be boys, Huff was fond of saying. Not that he was even remotely aware of the details of his son's crazy daredevil stunts. The less adults knew, the better.

Soon the Lars homestead was in sight, and Biggs slowed to let his companion off.

"See ya', Luke," he called after him.

Luke waved back before trudging into the house.

As soon as he'd gone, Biggs turned the swoop and headed out toward Tank's place. He knew his friend would be anxious to hear about today's run, and he couldn't wait to see his reaction to Fixer's challenge. Tank was probably the only person who was as crazy and reckless as he was, although Biggs suspected that Luke would probably catch up to them one of these days, if his uncle ever loosened the reigns a little.

When Biggs finally ran into Tank, the boy was reclining with his leg propped up and playing a hologame. He'd been in practically the same position every time Biggs had come to visit. Tank's family couldn't afford bone-knitters for the leg, so Tank had been forced to make due with a bulky plaster and bandage splint, which meant he was off of his feet for the duration of the time the bone took to heal, which would be about six weeks. With almost four weeks to go, Tank was getting stir-crazy.

"About time you showed up," greeted the gloomy boy from his couch, perking up a little now that Biggs had arrived. "So how'd it go?"

"It was a pretty good run," Biggs answered.

Tank looked at his friend incredulously, pausing his game. "What's pretty good?"

"Well, I got Fixer pretty peeved." Biggs grinned and winked.

"So I guess it went really well, then," Tank laughed. "You'll race then?"

Biggs nodded. They both knew Fixer well enough to expect a challenge any time someone did something that made him feel event he slightest bit jealous. "Day after tomorrow, if Fixer can get hold of a swoop."

There was a silence before Tank shook his head. "This is dangerous, Biggs. You know that, don't you?"

"Oh, come on! Don't start." Biggs plopped down on the couch beside his friend in annoyance.

"I'm serious, Biggs."

Biggs stared at Tank in disbelief. "You're usually the one I have to talk out of doing crazy stuff. I didn't expect you to be so. . .so grown up."

"I'm not being grown up," Tank explained. "I just don't want you getting in over your head without me there to protect you." He smiled.

Biggs laughed. "Like you could!"

"I always do!" Tank replied, laughing with him. Then he sobered up. "Seriously, though. Be careful."

"Aren't I always?"

Tank's only response was a groan. Then he asked, "So fill me in on the run."

Biggs told him all about the race through the canyon and what it felt like and how fast he went. Tank was impressed and peppered him with questions about the whole experience, trying to absorb as much of it as possible through his friend's description. When Biggs was finally finished elaborating on the whole story, Tank sighed.

"I wish I'd been there."

"As soon as you're better, I'll drag you out there to watch."

"Watch, nothin'!" Tank snorted in disgust. "I'll race ya' myself!"

"Sure, Tank." Biggs patted his friend on the shoulder. "Well, I gotta' get home before my dad starts to wonder."

"Yeah," Tank returned dryly, "and I gotta' get back to my game."

"At least you're starting to get pretty good at it."

"Yeah, well, I'd be a pathetic loser if I didn't."

With a smile, Biggs got up and headed for the door. "See ya' tomorrow."

"I'll be here. Say hi to the gang for me."

"I will." And with a final wave, Biggs left, hoping that tomorrow Fixer would tell him that the race was on.

The next afternoon, Biggs stood at the mouth of Beggar's Canyon, staring up at its solid rock walls and shadowed crevices. The race was on for tomorrow, and Biggs had to get ready for it. A few practice runs should do it, as long as he didn't tax the swoop too much. Standing there, he pictured himself threading the vehicle through the stony chasms with graceful ease. He saw himself leaving Fixer choking in a cloud of dust as he peeled away into the canyon. And he visualized that final triumphant crossing of the finish line, with the group of boys cheering in the background.

"What's it like, Biggs?"

Luke's softly spoken question broke Biggs' reverie, and he cleared his throat to answer. "It's like. . . " he paused, searching for the right word and unable to find it. "I can't explain it exactly."

"Do you think I could do it?"

Biggs turned and stared at the kid, surprised at the eagerness he heard in his voice. With no one else around, it seemed that Luke showed more of a risk-taking nature than Biggs thought he possessed. It was as though with Biggs the kid suddenly found himself able to voice the crazy yearnings he had without worrying about being shot down by the others for being too young or just plain stupid. Biggs had noticed this happening more and more recently, and he was torn about his feelings on the matter. After all, Luke was only ten, and Biggs found that he felt a certain amount of protectiveness toward him. But at the same time, Biggs was excited to see that the kid was willing to take chances the same way he was, as though they were kindred spirits. With all this going through his head, Biggs wasn't sure how to answer.

"Well?" Luke pressed.

"I don't know," Biggs finally answered. Seeing the disappointment in Luke's face, he quickly added, "I mean, I guess you could. It's not exactly like flying the swoop out in the open, but it's pretty close. You just have the walls to worry about."

Luke nodded, and Biggs saw that the disappointed expression hadn't faded from his face.

He sighed. "I guess I could take you on a practice run with me." A sudden thought came to him. "Or, I could ride with you and let you steer through the canyon."

Luke's eyes seemed to light up at that, and he clenched his hands eagerly. "Can I? Can I really?"

"Sure," Biggs answered, not sure if this was such a good idea, but going along with it anyway. He gestured toward the parked swoop. "Hop on."

"Yes!" Luke rushed over to the swoop and quickly jumped on board, starting it up as he did so.

Biggs climbed on right behind him and spoke over the engine, "Promise me you'll take it easy at first." He definitely didn't want anything to happen to his swoop before the race, not to mention the fact that he didn't want either of them getting injured either. Luke's response, however, was not very reassuring.

"Just hang on tight."

Biggs didn't get a chance to reply before the swoop shot forward and he found himself clutching at Luke's waist as tightly as he possibly could. As rock walls went whizzing past his field of vision, Biggs couldn't help but think this was a bad idea. The kid was going way too fast. He was going to get them both killed, or at the very least, he was going to do some serious damage. Biggs felt himself lurching from side to side as the kid whipped the vehicle through the various twists and turns, and he tried to call out to tell him to slow down. But through the speed of the vehicle and the jarring of his body as the kid maneuvered through the canyon, his voice simply wouldn't function, and he could only hang on for dear life.

The walls blurred and Biggs held on tighter as the wind whipped at him with a fierceness he didn't recall experiencing when he had raced the craft only yesterday. Through the haze of panic he was experiencing, it began to dawn on him that Luke was possibly piloting his swoop faster and more skillfully than even he could. Yet even as the thought emerged, Biggs quickly dismissed it as an impossibility. There was just no way a ten year-old kid was better than he was. The fact that he had to dig his fingers into the kid's tunic to keep from falling off was beside the point. Yet as the vehicle rocketed through the final turns of the canyon, Biggs began to wonder. Could the kid really be a natural?

With a suddenness that surprised him, the walls of the canyon suddenly disappeared and the swoop slowed. When she finally came to a halt, Luke turned back toward his friend.

"Biggs, you're hurting me."

Biggs slowly released his white-knuckled grip on Luke and climbed off the swoop. His legs were inexplicably wobbly, and he quickly lowered himself to a sitting position on the sand. Luke hopped off the swoop and looked at his friend, his face full of concern.

"Are you okay?"

Biggs nodded and answered, "Yeah." The word came out as a hoarse croak, and Biggs fought to clear his throat before answering again, "Yeah, I'm fine."

He took in the wounded expression on Luke's face as the boy asked, "That bad, huh?"

Biggs was in shock. How could the kid think he was bad? At ten, Luke had just flown that swoop through the canyon like a pro, and yet he thought he had failed. In truth, Biggs had never seen piloting like that. "No," he managed to respond. "That good."

Luke looked puzzled. "Huh?"

Trying to get his uncooperative legs under him to stand again, Biggs explained, "Luke, that was incredible."

"It was?"

"Luke, don't you realize what you just did?"

Luke shook his head.

Biggs laughed inwardly at the kid's sheer innocence. "I think you just beat my record."

The look on the kid's face was priceless. "Really?"

Biggs put his hand on Luke's shoulder, both to reassure his friend and to support himself on his shaky legs. "Luke, you don't have to say yes, but I want you to race Fixer tomorrow instead of me."

"What!"

"That's right. If you pilot this thing like that tomorrow, you can't lose."

Luke paled. "But. . .against Fixer?"

Biggs shook his head at Luke's alarming lack of confidence. "Luke, like I said, you don't have to, but I really think you have a better chance of beating him than I do."

"But you're older."

"So what? You're faster." Biggs hoped he could convince him to do it. "Luke, you're a natural. I've never seen anything like that."

A slow smile began to form on Luke's face. Biggs could tell that Luke was about to give in.

"It would be worth it to get him to stop calling you 'Wormie,' wouldn't it?" he added for good measure.

And that had done it. Luke was sold. He would race Fixer, and Biggs was sure he would win. Now to get a few more practice runs in to get rid of the kid's nervousness, and they'd be set. Biggs smiled at the taste of triumph so close at hand.

The next afternoon, a crowd of kids had gathered to watch the race. Fixer hadn't been exactly happy that Biggs had been replaced by Wormie, but at least he hadn't cancelled. Now the two opponents waited atop their borrowed swoops, waiting for Biggs to start the countdown.

"Five, four, three, two, one, GO!"

The two riders shot into the canyon. The crowd hollered and cheered, but Biggs watched in anxious silence. His best friend was racing another friend on his swoop, and now Biggs was beginning to have his doubts. What if something went wrong during the race? What if Luke lost and his confidence was shattered? What if Fixer lost and hated Luke for it? What if either one of them got hurt? He suddenly realized how dangerous this whole thing really was. Lost in his thoughts he barely heard Windy behind him.

"It's not gonna' count."

Biggs turned abruptly. "What?"

"It's not gonna count," Windy repeated. "Luke got a head start. He went on 'one' instead of on 'go.' So the race doesn't count. They'll have to start over."

Biggs silently cursed the situation just as the two swoops emerged from the canyon and crossed the finish line. Luke must have already known his mistake because he was leading the two swoops back to the starting point. When he reached Biggs, he could see the disappointment on the younger boy's face.

"It didn't count," Luke said.

"The kid cheated!" cried Fixer.

Luke retorted coldly, "It was an accident. We'll race again." He looked toward Biggs. "Okay?"

Biggs nodded and ushered them back to the starting line.

"They're gonna do it again?" Deak asked.

"They have to," replied Windy. "It didn't count."

Biggs bit down his apprehension over the two of them having to repeat the race, and asked, "Are you two ready?"

Luke and Fixer both nodded, and Fixer added, "Yeah, as long as Wormie here doesn't cheat again."

Biggs watched as Luke icily ignored him and revved the engine.

"Okay, then. Remember not to start until I say 'Go.' On your marks. Counting down now. Five, four, three, two, one, GO!"

With a roar, the two swoops sped into the canyon once again. This time, Fixer quickly took the lead and cut in front of Luke as they entered the canyon. Then they disappeared from sight and Biggs could only clench his jaw in anticipation and wait for the two swoops to emerge from the other side of the canyon. He knew Luke would pull out ahead. With the piloting he saw yesterday, there was no way he could lose.

Just then, there was a strange sound echoing from the canyon that sounded like engine trouble. One of the two swoops was having problems. Biggs ' heart began to pound in his throat. Unable to see what was happening, he began to head toward the finish line on foot, several others behind him.

Before he'd even gone halfway there, one of the swoops came out of the canyon, the other swoop right behind it. Too close behind it, and it was wobbling crazily. Suddenly, it shot out from behind the first swoop, but it was out of control and heading for a rock formation that jutted out of the sand just to the north of the canyon mouth. The other swoop slowed to a halt, its rider watching helplessly as the chaotic scene unfolded. Biggs continued toward the two vehicles, realizing with a cold shock that the vehicle spinning wildly out of control was Luke's. Pumping his legs through sand as fast as he could, he was dully aware of the fact that there was nothing he could do. Yet he couldn't stop running, even as his best friend appeared to be on a direct collision course with the rocks straight ahead.

Then, at the last possible second, the swoop veered right and came to an abrupt stop, sending it's rider soaring through the air and landing in the sand a few meters away from the resting swoop. Panicked, Biggs continued to run even as he watched Fixer steer his vehicle toward the spot in the desert where Luke's body now lay prone in the sand. The older boy jumped off his swoop and knelt beside the inert form.

By the time Biggs arrived, Fixer was gently slapping the boy's cheeks, trying to get a response. As Biggs knelt beside Luke's body, he asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know," answered Fixer, clearly shaken. "I think the kid steered into my slipstream or something. I'm not sure. Can't believe he regained control like that, though."

Biggs had to agree, although he was now more concerned about Luke's condition than the skills he had used to save the swoop.

At that moment, Luke's eyes suddenly fluttered open, then squinted against the glare of the two suns.

Biggs and Fixer both emitted relieved sighs before Biggs asked, "You okay, Luke?"

Luke groaned, shading his eyes from the sun with a hand. "Just got the wind knocked out of me," he croaked in response. "Is the swoop okay?"

Fixer laughed and shook his head in wonder. "The kid goes flying through the air and he's worried about the swoop!"

Biggs grinned as well. "Yeah, Luke, the swoop's fine. I'm more worried about you."

"I'm fine," Luke said, easing himself into a sitting position and dusting sand from his tunic. "All I kept thinking about was not wrecking your swoop."

"Well, it's fine," Biggs reassured him. "You sure you aren't hurt?"

"I'm okay," Luke moaned in exasperation. "I think I'm gonna hurt tomorrow, though. Where's the swoop?"

At that moment, Deak rushed over. "I can't believe it! A bit of sand in the intake, but other than that, the swoop's fine!" His enthusiasm was radiating from him in waves. "I mean, she was this close! This close to being pulverized! But she's fine!"

Fixer groaned. "Say it again, why don't ya', Deak." Biggs looked at him, not surprised to see an expression of annoyance quickly replacing the one of concern that had been on his face not a few moments ago. Obviously, now that Luke was okay, Fixer was back to despising him.

"You gonna race again?" Deak asked. "Seeing as she's fine and all?"

Fixer turned and looked at Biggs. Both of them then looked at Luke who was frowning and squirming to get sand out of his tunic.Biggs really wasn't sure and was about to say so, when Luke piped in.

"I think you'd better take it this time, Biggs," he said. "I've screwed up two races already."

"Are you sure?"

Luke nodded, self-consciously avoiding Fixer's gaze. "Believe me, I'm okay with having you race him instead," he explained, jerking a thumb in Fixer's direction. "And I'm sure Fixer won't mind."

Fixer shrugged. "If Wormie doesn't wanna race, don't make him." He grinned maliciously. "Besides, I wouldn't want him running home crying to his uncle."

"Shut up, Fixer!" Biggs snapped. "It's your fault the kid nearly got killed in the first place!"

"My fault?" Fixer narrowed his eyes at Biggs. "How is it my fault that the kid can't fly?"

For reasons he couldn't even begin to explain, Biggs suddenly felt a surge of anger and a strong desire to defend Luke's piloting skills. "This kid can fly better than you can, any time, any place!"

"Not from where I'm standin'," Fixer drawled.

"You wanna race him again, then?"

"Biggs!" Luke cried. "What are you--"

Biggs waved a quick hand to silence him while keeping his gaze fixed on the older boy. Couldn't the kid see that he was defending his honor here? "So what do you say, Fixer?"

Fixer shrugged. "If Wormie, here, is up to it."

Once again, Biggs and Fixer simultaneously turned their eyes on Luke. Biggs felt a momentary pang of guilt as he looked at Luke's expression of thinly veiled terror, but the feeling quickly faded. Luke could beat Fix. No doubt about it.

But as Biggs stared at him, he could see Luke's expression change into one of betrayal and finally defeat. "Fine, I'll do it," the ten year-old's voice replied weakly.

"It ain't gonna' be today, though," Windy piped in. He was pointing southward at a large storm that seemed to be building rapidly.

"Fine time," Fixer growled, staring at the approaching storm.

Biggs, however, quickly suggested, "Tomorrow, then?"

Fixer looked to Luke for affirmation, but Luke was studiously examining his boots and refused to meet either boy's gaze. Turning back to Biggs, Fixer shrugged and said, "You're on."

"Fine," Biggs confirmed, draping an arm over Luke's shoulder in support and solidarity. A quick glance at the kid showed that Luke was doing his best to put on a brave face.

Fixer then turned away from them and headed back toward his own swoop. "No cheating tomorrow, Wormie!" he called over his shoulder as he left.

Biggs tried to ignore Luke's shaky sigh, saying, "You'll beat him, Luke."

The next day at school, the story of the near-fatal swoop race had made its way through every classroom. The drama of the story was heightened by the fact that Luke didn't show up, and rumors began to fly about the possibility of serious injuries. Some even said that he kid had died on his way home from the race and had made Biggs promise to win a race for him, which made Biggs laugh when he heard it. Of course, he knew the truth, which was that Luke had been forced to stay home to repair the damage wrought by the sandstorm on several vaporators on the Lars homestead. The kid had every intention of racing this afternoon and beating Fixer fair and square.

Fixer, somehow, found himself the villain in this whole scenario. All day long, he got dirty looks from total strangers, and he overheard other kids talking about going out to see the race today to watch Fixer lose. He began to wonder why this always seemed to happen whenever Skywalker was involved, and he felt betrayed by the fact that the kid he'd been so worried about yesterday was now the cause of his ostracism. It especially bothered him because most of the kids at the school didn't even know who Luke Skywalker was.

By the end of the day, everyone was talking about the afternoon race. Biggs and Fixer briefly met over the details, seeing as Luke wasn't there. Biggs made Fixer promise that he wouldn't pull any stunts or try to get Luke killed, and Fixer made Biggs promise not to let Luke cheat or play up the sympathy injury in case anything did go wrong. That afternoon, when everyone met at Beggar's Canyon, a crowd twice the size of yesterday's had gathered to watch.

"I hope you're ready for this," Biggs muttered to Fixer.

"Let's just get this over with," Fixer replied. He climbed atop his own swoop and glared at Luke, who sat on Biggs's swoop, revving his engine and looking very much alive.

Biggs stepped aside and muttered a brief prayer as Windy started the countdown. "Five, four, three, two, one."

The crowd cheered as the two swoops raced into the canyon. Fixer tensed as he went into the first set of turns. It was one thing to worry about the canyon walls, but it was quite another to worry about another racer. Yesterday's accident had made him extra cautious, and he found himself whipping through the turns closer to the left wall than he was comfortable with. Peripherally aware of the kid's swoop, he noted that the other seemed to be doing the same thing, hugging the right side and almost afraid to take the lead. As they continued to race, Fixer accelerated, inching ahead of the kid. The fork was approaching, and Fixer slowed down to handle the rapid turns that were coming up. Wormie suddenly took advantage of Fixer's caution, and took the lead. Thankful that the kid was actually racing and not playing it too safe, Fixer tried to accelerate again, but he was forced back by series of twists and turns that he knew he could not negotiate at too high a speed. He noted when the kid, too, slowed down to maneuver, although he remained ahead. As soon as the mouth of the Canyon came into view, Fixer pushed the swoop to its limits, as fast as it could go. He pulled ahead of Wormie just as they were about to cross the finish line. With a burst of speed, the kid shot up, and the two swoops crossed simultaneously, much to the dismay of the crowd of kids hoping to see a decisive defeat of one of the two racers.

Biggs dashed to the finish line as both racers slowed down and brought their swoops to rest.

"Well, we tied, I guess," Fixer called over to him.

"Yeah," Biggs agreed. "You want to go at it again?"

Fixer looked as though he was tempted to answer in the affirmative, but something held him back. He couldn't tell if it was the fact that Fixer had not managed to beat Luke in three separate races, or whether he was thankful he'd simply made it out of the canyon safely. But Biggs could see he didn't want to race again. Not just yet.

"Not really," Fixer finally answered.

Abruptly, Luke laughed, climbing off Biggs's swoop. "Good, 'cause neither do I. I need some more practice on those turns."

Biggs joined him in laughter. "Just wait 'til we get our skyhoppers. Then we'll really be able to race."

"You said it!" agreed Luke.

And with that, Fixer merely rolled his eyes and headed away from them and towards the crowd. Biggs, however, hopped onto his swoop and said, "So, do you think we have time to tell Tank the story?"

As Luke climbed on behind him, Biggs sensed a bit of disappointment in the kid's tone as he answered, "Yeah, but I didn't win."

"True," Biggs agreed. "But then again, you didn't lose, either."

The beaming smile that spread across Luke's face was brighter than Tattooine's twin suns, and Biggs chuckled as he gunned the engine and steered toward Tank's place. Yeah, there were going to be a lot of races in their future. He could see it now. And it no longer mattered whether or not Biggs won—just as long as he and Luke made certain never to lose.

Over his shoulder, he heard Luke say, "It felt like I was a shooting star!"

Biggs grinned. "That's right Luke. We're a couple of shooting stars. We'll never be stopped!"


End file.
